Vacant
by hookshots
Summary: xx


i am not a writer but i wrote this i guess uhmmm ... takes place in an AU where link loses to demise in the final battle and is held prisoner/captive/slAVE

trIGGER WARNING: SADDNESs :'((((

* * *

Breaking him had been a mistake. They had thought he would become submissive to their will over time; become obedient, yielding. But they had been wrong. So very wrong.

What lay motionlessly across the slate colored sheets was not the Hero of the Goddess. But a fragment.

The hair that was once an untamed mane of golden locks was frayed and dull. His skin, previously glowing with warmth and health bestowed by the sun, now covered him like a cold, pallid blanket. The strong, sturdy arms, previous wielders of Her holy blade, lay soft and weak.

And his eyes. Oh, Goddess his eyes.

Gone was the electrifying glare of a determined warrior. Instead, an endless gaze of a boy who had been forced through far too much permanently took its place. His eyes sat as shallow grey pools, drained of the vibrant life that once flowed freely.

The slow rise and fall of his bare chest served as the only indication he was still living. His mind had retreated into the secluded depths of his consciousness; sealing itself away from any further damage. There was only so much even the Goddess's hero could endure before permanently fracturing. He'd become comatose, finding peace in the void his consciousness, and completely unresponsive to his hellish outside world.

His bane loomed over him, tall and white-clad.

While the Demon King had long lost interest in the ex-hero, the same could not be said of his sword. Upon the boy's capture, Ghirahim had developed a obsession. He possessively adored the youth, though the twisted sentiment was not shared by any stretch of the imagination. And when Link had slipped into his perpetual limbo the demon's fixation only seemed to grow.

Ghirahim stared down at the boy's strewn form, tangled amongst the light sheets. He observed the awkward way Link's body laid. As though he'd been tossed there and hadn't the will to properly rearrange himself. Stepping closer to the edge of the bed, the sword spirit reached out.

"Where have you gone, my skychild?" He mused, brushing the youth's sallow bangs from his forehead. The boy made no indication that he'd felt demon's feather-light touch sweep over his skin.

"Have you found escape in a dream?" Ghirahim prompted, his calm voice laced with venom. White hair cascaded over his face as he tilted his head at the boy and continued, "Fantasies of your previous life? Soaring amongst the clouds without a single care in the world?"

The demon couldn't help the wicked grin teasing at the corners of his lips now, "Or perhaps you dream… of _her_?"

There it was. He had caught it, just the tiniest of fluctuation of the boy's unwavering gaze. Ghirahim had found that mention of the Goddess's incarnate always seemed to rouse some sort of response, no matter how miniscule.

"Did I guess correctly?" He prodded as he sat himself on the bed, eyes remaining fixated on the boy's features.

"She was quite a dream indeed, was she not?" Ghirahim sighed, the sweet words turning sour in his tainted mouth, "So radiant and simply… divine." His lips turned upwards in a mocking grin.

"You loved her." He finally reminded the former hero.

Link slowly blinked, his gray eyes shifting to the white form perched on the edge of the bed. Ghirahim's attention eagerly drew to the slight stir, though he didn't move as not to startle the child further into his abysm. It had become extremely rare the boy even acknowledge his company. Though even when the demon managed to catch Link's recognition, their exchanges only lasted a few fleeting moments before the boy slipped back into his shell.

The youth opened his mouth to speak, however his voice was too hoarse and much too quiet for the demon to decipher.

Ghirahim raised a brow at the sound, his serene façade masking the excited fever brewing just below. Regardless, he coolly placed his chin on a gloved hand and hummed, "You're going to have to speak up, love."

A heavy silence settled in the room before the boy spoke again. The words were low and rough, but unmistakable.

"Kill me."

Ghirahim slowly turned to meet the teen's gaze. His eyes were as the demon expected, vacant. He let a sigh pass his white lips, turning his head back to the wall in front of him. The suffocating silence filled the room once more, soft breath the only sound to fill the air.

Finally, Ghirahim's silky voice cut through the thickness, "You know why that's not possible."

Still the he clarified anyways, not quite sure how many previous times he had told the child, "Master would not be pleased."

Link slowly exhaled, his right hand twitching. His eyes slowly drew away from the Demon Lord, the minute action sending Ghirahim into an internal panic. He had learnt to recognize when the youth was lapsing away. He had to act quickly.

The demon reached for his upper arm, meeting no resistance as he pulled boy into his lap. Ghirahim reached up to stroke the boy's pale cheek with a thumb. His hand massaged down to the youth's neck, the gesture deceptively tender. The blonde's body felt stiff and cool. A huge contrast to the former warm softness the sword spirit had come to crave. He stopped at base of his throat, watching Link's face with the upmost scrutiny.

"I have nothing left to offer you," Link's voice was quiet but steady and robotic, as if he had been rehearsing the line, "You have nothing more to take."

The demon cocked his head to the side, a grin playing at his lips as he leaned closer to the boy. "Oh Link, you know that's not in the least bit true," Ghirahim purred in a sultry faux assurance as he buried his nose into the teen's hair, "There's _always something_ you can offer me."

But even the demon knew there was nothing left for him to consume. He had truly taken everything from this boy. His friends, his home, his honor, his virtue. His being.

The sword spirit had broken his play thing, but to say Ghirahim didn't regret it was to lie. After all, there wasn't much fun in a toy that didn't respond.

Still, the demon's mouth trailed down, hovering just above Link's jawline; his tongue flicked out, tasting along the paled skin. The blonde mechanically tilted his head to the side, allowing the other male access; dare he not deny his lord. Ghriahim's mouth caressed along the prominent bone as his right hand reached to cup the boy's face. He advanced upwards, only halting at the corner of Link's sealed mouth. He held still for a few moments, watching the boy's face for any stitch of variance as his breath ghosted over chapped lips.

But there was no shiver. No sound of protest or pleasure. The blonde only stared through him as though he were made of glass. Link had slipped back into the safety of his oblivion.

Realizing that he had lost the boy's elusive regard, Ghirahim inwardly seethed. He had been so close. Or had he? Truthfully, he hadn't known why he tried; the boy hadn't been responsive towards any sort of advances for months. It was only by a miracle that the boy ate on occasion.

"Link," Ghirahim addressed firmly, trying to recapture the boy's attention.

The demon's jaw tightened and his hands slid to Link's shoulders. "You know I do not appreciate being ignored," He growled through clenched teeth, roughly shaking the youth in his grip. The blonde head jerked awkwardly at the motion, but his consciousness was not to be revived. It was infuriating for the demon to be neglected in such a way.

"Sky child, look at me," Ghirahim ordered, his voice becoming louder in irritation. His dark eyes darted across Link's face, searching, desperate. But when he was met with silence he raised a hand in a blinded fury.

"Look at me, damnit!"

The demon watched the flaxen head roll to the side as the back of his gloved palm met Link's cheek. He was sure he'd accidently snapped the youth's neck. He was however disproved as Link's head fell forward, bangs veiling his eyes. Ghirahim's hand snaked to the nape of the boy's neck, grasping his hair. He tugged lightly, tilting the blonde's head up in attempt to reclaim his mind.

Though he was only met with the same listless stare.

Ghirahim exhaled, the fever inside cooling. He cupped the abused cheek, stroking the bruising flesh as if in apology.

"I know you can hear me," The demon spoke, his voice just above a whisper, "I know you are still there." Ghirahim's touch traveled down, tracing the boy's prominent collar bones and shoulders. He lingered there. "You will not leave me," He breathily added, leaning down to slowly press his lips to the boy's. And as expected he didn't stir.

He didn't know how long he held the boy like that, simply watching his face as the dead grey eyes stared past him. Ghirahim allowed his mind to briefly wander, a wicked idea weaving its way into his thoughts.

He could retrieve the boy from his limbo. The demon offered a dangerously sly smile.

Drawing a hand away, he snapped his fingers. A long black blade materialized in his contrasting white hand. Ghirahim gripped the hilt, slowly angling the point at the boy's back. His other hand moved to firmly grip Link's shoulder.

Perhaps he'd regret it later.

But the boy was gone. He was a hollow, long abandoned shell.

And he needed release.

The blonde's body jerked forward as the sensation of cold metal entered through the right side of his back. At first he moved not a muscle, his entire frame rigid in shock. Ghirahim watched intently. He looked down in surprise, finding that the foreign object had made its exit through his chest. Trying to focus on the ebony shape protruding through his chest, he hazily recognized it as one Demon Lord's rapiers, an object he had become well acquainted.

Link's senses were jarred again as he felt the rapier rip away, leaving him empty. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as an intense burning began to pulsate from his core. A thick warmth traveled down his bare chest and back. Ghirahim's gaze never left the hero's face. Wanting to absorb any stitch of emotion he could track across that numb visage. The demon's jaw clenched as he witnessed a sudden realization flicker across Link's eyes. Finally. The youth's lips twitched and parted while his bewildered gaze slowly roamed upwards to meet the curious leer of the demon.

He looked back down. A trembling hand reached to touch the warm, steady flow pouring out of the clean slice. Link pulled back his hand and stared wide-eyed at his fingers, now coated in a glossy dark red. His breath hitched in his throat, trying to concentrate.

It was blood. _His_ blood. He was bleeding.

All the emotions he had sealed deep within came rushing forth, unchallenged by the void where he had buried his consciousness. The guilt of his failure. The grief of losing his friends and home. The humiliation of his utter helpless. The shame of succumbing to his captors. The betrayal of bestowed a false destiny. And the suffocating sorrow of losing his best friend; the only girl he'd ever loved.

He had been sealed away in the trenches of his desolation, but now he was surfacing.

As though he'd been held underwater, a strangled gasp forced its way past his lips trying to find the means to breathe. An instinctual panic suddenly gripped him like a vice. The teen desperately clawed at the gaping wound before Ghirahim could catch his wrist. Link frantically struggled against the demon's grasp, the action only fueling his distress.

At last, streams of tears beaded down his cheeks. The bleeding youth slumped in his hold, whining between broken gasps and groans. His blonde head lolled to the side, already growing disoriented from blood loss.

"Why," He croaked, trying to catch his breath, "Wha…Why are y-"

He sputtered, unable to finish as he let out a harsh cough. Bright blood splattered across the demon's pale chest like paint on a canvas. Ghirahim reached out, steadying Link's spinning world with two palms on each cheek.

"At last," The demon breathed, "You've returned to me."

The boy's vision swam as he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open and comprehend the white figure before him. His blind grip was slick with his own blood as he grasped at Ghirahim's white clothing, staining it with crimson. He was desperate for some kind of support; some kind of solace.

"Please," The bleeding youth managed to whine, cut off as another sob wracked his frame. White gloved fingers gently caressed his wet cheeks, whipping away tears in attempt to sooth his escalating hysteria.

"Shh…" Ghirahim gently hushed, "This is what you wanted, is it not?"

He pushed the boy's bangs away from his clammy forehead, pressing his lips to the cooling skin. Link's body writhed in agony as another spasm shook through him. He hiccupped as his lungs expanded, desperate for oxygen, but their attempts were met with a wet cough. The boy exhaled. His glossy eyes wandered down and to the side, threatening to flutter close.

"Ah, ah, eyes up here love," Ghirahim softly beckoned, tapping a hand against the youth's cheek, "Do not leave me quite yet."

The blonde jerked, seemingly startled. His focus slowly dragged back to the Demon Lord's enthralled gaze. Link leaned into the demon's palm, exhausted. Ghirahim thumbed away more tears as he studied the boy's glazed view and the way his chapped lips hung open - clearly taken over by delirium. But the youth suddenly convulsed, curling in on himself. His forehead collided with the demon's torso, stained hands clutched at his own wounded chest.

The sword spirit gathered Link's hands in his, supporting the boy's trembling form. Ghirahim peered down at youth as he strained to hold himself up. Lifting his head slowly, the blonde gazed back at the demon. Ghirahim raised a hand to his mouth, lightly pressing his lips to the back of Link's bloodied hand.

"You're beautiful," He soothed, savoring the metallic taste on his lips. The boy could only whimper in response.

Not having enough strength to stay upright as his hands were released, the blonde sunk into Ghirahim's chest. His breath escaped him in short, quiet gasps now. The demon wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him carefully. He felt Link hiccup, as the boy clutched at his scarlet smeared clothing. The blonde began to shiver, his teeth chattering quietly.

"I'm sorry," He sobbed, broken and unrestrained, "I'm so sorry, Zelda."

The demon stiffened at the name. Though not at the name of the former golden-haired goddess. But at the way it was spoken. With such intense anguish and guilt, the bereavement was nearly tangible. He leaned forwards and buried his nose in the boy's damp hair again. The gesture almost tender.

"You'll be free," He murmured against Link's pale hair, "I'll set you free."

The demon raised a hand to brush away an accumulating cold sweat from the blonde's forehead. He gazed down at the boy observing the way his uneven breathing began to regulate, though soft and hardly audible. His hands skimmed across Link's quivering back, tracing mindless patterns in the dark blood. Ghirahim paused as he realized the boy had stilled; body slack in his arms.

He drew back, a hand moving the blonde's neck to angle his face towards his. The Demon Lord was almost startled as he was unexpectedly met with a flash of blue. The boy held his gaze, eyes reignited. Ghirahim recognized it as the same flame that challenged him the day he'd met Her Chosen Hero.

Link's cracked lips gradually parted. "I can't… feel anything," He whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His lids drooped and his eyes drifted downwards. Ghirahim did not move as he felt the boy's body relax, becoming completely limp. A soft sigh left the blonde's lips, and he was gone.

The demon simply sat there as moments passed. Contemplating what he had done. And watching the ex-hero's face as if he'd somehow wake up. Revive himself. And walk away seemingly unharmed as he'd always done.

But the boy's body had grown cold. And the sword could hear his Master calling.

* * *

uh well ... sorry ?


End file.
